


First Communion

by falsemessiah



Series: Know, O Son-- A Sacrament of Violence [1]
Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Gen, Religious Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2018-10-29 10:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10852392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsemessiah/pseuds/falsemessiah
Summary: "Remain wary of the frailty of men. Their wills are weak, minds young.Were it not for fear, death would go unlamented.Seek the old blood."





	1. Chapter 1

We are born of the blood,

Made men by the blood.

Undone by the blood.

 

Fear the Old Blood.

 

The words twisted in meaning, becoming hollow and devoid of the old Provost's intentions at this point. Laurence muttered them prior to the beginning of his session. Kneeling in prayer towards the east as every bone in his body ached in anticipation, he touched his chin closer to his chest and spoke those words faster-- giving him small comfort for these words he knew were branded into his mind. They were no longer the words of Byrgenwerth but that of any institution that had their experience with Old Blood, for their branching paths all lead to the same place.

The blood that they have been feeding the town of Yarnham was cut and diluted until only traces of it were left, where the warmth would spread through your body like being touched by something greater, something powerful as your wounds would heal and your illness would vanish, that was all they required in order to satisfy those base human needs of their citizens. The people were not looking for something more, they were looking for an answer to the problems that plagued them and their families daily.

Prior ministrations for the high ranking members were of the same level of those they gave to everyone else. The purpose was different, instead of healing they sought to slowly ascend past the limits of what they knew. But this simply wasn't that, no. This was something of a different caliber.

This was Holy, This was Communion.

His footsteps echoed in the empty halls as he walked through them with the rays of sunlight sloping in through the windows as it set shining onto his white garb, this would be the example he set for the rest of the clerics. Those who followed him would partake and be reminded that this is what they are here for. Their mission surpassed holiness in a form and turned it into an action more substantial.

Their human suffering will pay off in dividends when they no longer have to engage in it.

 

The walk was lonely.

 

After the ministration, the High Practitioner would leave the room and lock the door behind him at Laurence's request, all the while standing by-- leeches on hand in hopes to slow down potential damage should anything go wrong. There was nothing in their standard medical practices that knew how to deal with Old Blood, they only hoped that this method worked should it be needed. His journey, although nonexistent to the Great Ones with the existence of mankind so insignificant on their scope of the universe, was protected. This is what he knew, unmovably. Unshakably.

 He kissed the gold pendant and recited the words again as he stood in front of the grand wooden doors of the room that they had fashioned into a treatment room. He heard the heels clicking on the other side of the door, pacing in anticipation, nervous and unsure. It brought him small comfort to know that he wasn’t alone through the entire thing; that the only other person involved was brimming with the same doubts and anxieties he had. The rest admired him, they kissed his ring and stared at him in awe—for the young Vicar, so bold and bright, had such strength in him. He wrung his hands as lingering doubt slowly crept in.

The only thing that kept him from turning away was the memory of his clergy, the look in their eyes when he announced it. Should they be here to observe all that their leader would do for them, for Yarnham? It was far too late for that now, this experience was one of his own and not something meant for the public eye. A private journey in search of questions and answers and so much more.

This is what his path lead to, as everything before was set up meticulously and fell in place, fate was what had brought him here and gave him the Church.

He knocked on the door with a determined rap, the soft click of Emily's shoes scattered across the stone floors before she fumbled with her clipboard and the handle of the heavy door. He greeted her with a smile, as she stepped back allowing him to enter the room. He tapped her gently on the arm before she could kneel, "No need for that here, your willingness to perform this is enough for me."

"Vicar Laurence, of course, I have everything set up. How long would you like me to stay?" She peered up at him with her shoulders slightly hunched with tension.

"Relax, you're making me nervous."

"That was not my intention-- there are just serious implications with the process."

"I'm aware."

"I would rather keep an eye on you rather than have you do this alone. Should anything happen to you, our Vicar, the weight of the blame would fall on my shoulders."

"Is it enough to ask for you to trust me?" He watched her stand silently, weighing the options in her mind versus the allegation of their leader being a man who’s word was not enough. He had gotten them this far and each step he took, would get them closer to the cosmos. His word was their everything.  His visage of seriousness melted away into a warm and inviting expression of understanding, "Of course it's enough, its blasphemous to think otherwise."

He watched her as his words filled her with a burst of shame. Emily stood there, defeated, she didn't need to speak in order for her words to be heard by him and yet still he forgave her for her thoughts before she could put them past her lips. "Yes," Her voice was slightly strained as he pushed a stand of hair behind her ear, "I am nothing but faithful to the Church."

"And We appreciate such dedication." he mused as he turned away from her, taking his place on the soft, white canopy bed, the privacy sheets held up by the solid mahogany frame with his arm outstretched. His head sank into the goose feather pillows that were piled high and his dark eyes watched Emily fold his sleeve up and prepare the site for the injection. "You can leave the moment you're done here."

Her cold fingers traced the marks of the needles before that left small marks and bruises on the fresher punctures before finding a place to push the needle into. "Perhaps we try your other arm? There's little room to work with."

"There's no difference between the two, I'm afraid."

"All is well, then. I'll make do."

The pinch of the needle was almost soothing in its familiarity, he nodded with his eyes closing giving Emily permission to proceed.

"I'll be right outside, call for me if you need assistance." She bowed and headed for the door.

"Emily, dear."

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

The sound of the door closing was all he heard in response.

 

 

 

It burned.

Oh, did it burn his veins and boiled his blood,

Picking him apart, his last bits of patience and strength to hold out in silence.

It raged like a fire inside of his body.

 

Was it his body or had the blood consumed it leaving only the ashes of suffering in it's wake?

It was only him and the sound of his labored breathing that accompanied him, his vision bleary as he stared up at the stark white ceiling of the canopy. His body was stiffened in pain and a broken cry was finally released his throat, parched and dry. Perhaps, now was not the time to be regretting tackling such a thing alone without the aid of another. His fingers twitched as he looked down at his arm, the injection site itself was no different than the others. But the needle looked as though it was throbbing, it looked alive as fed him the old blood drop by drop. Time fell apart around him as he struggled to gasp for air, his chest and throat tight but not actually constricting.

Blood plays those tricks on you. It feigns things that aren't there the more you take, on the contrary maybe it was always like that and you could just finally feel it.

 

This was Holy.

This was what he had to fear.

This was his life balancing on the precipice of madness and enlightenment.

This was the realization that neither was different from the other.

 

This was what he had been hoping for.

 

The edges of his lips pushed up into a soft smile, he attempted to call out once more but couldn't hear his own voice over the sound of the blood rushing in his ears and his heart thumping in his chest. He couldn't hear the heavy oak doors open and his vision caught nothing but the glimpse of a ghost gliding towards him. He closed his eyes once more when he felt her cold hand on his forehead. Bliss.

"Vicar Laurence, can you hear me?" Her voice split through his head like a bolt of lightning and left a lasting pain running through his brain in waves.

Was she trying to gauge his consciousness or make the entire ordeal feel worse? Had he not nodded weakly, would she have started to attach leeches to his skin and hope for the best? Would they burn up while they were still latched on or was he the only one who would suffer until they bled him dry of Old Blood?

 

This was his undoing. Piece by piece he fractured and fell apart. Became undone, built together once more, and then watched it all tumble back down again. The constraints of time were nothing but mere suggestion and completely useless to him in this state, there were no bounds and nothing tying his will or his mind to where his body lay. Emily was a blur as she sat there next to him making sure the wash cloth on his forehead remained cool, occasionally dipping it into a bowl to freshen it up. Had he even wanted to know the time, a clock face would read a nothing other than foreign to him.

The needle had since long been removed but Laurence remained unaware, slipping into unconsciousness as she watched over him. This was her savior, putting his body on the line for a chance to bring them all closer to their goals. He helped people, saved them from their illness, he gave them work and a means to afford living. Three years ago she was taken in by the Church at 16 when they were but a group of scholars making a name for themselves with the Yarnhamites. It was not only relief they gave them but hope. That was what the people of the city needed.

Tirelessly, she watched him give exactly that to them, without second thought or hesitation. The premature wrinkling around his eyes that he hid behind a set of glasses would not get past her, his eyes aged a decade in the matter of a few years, the rest of him remaining as young and lively as ever before. Ministrators were the silent eyes and ears as they watched over their patients, she listened to the Vicar ramble on for hours about how this all came together—the joy in his face when he talked about the Church, the pride in his voice when he spoke about _her_ accomplishments.

 

The two of them were sitting there, Laurence hooked up to the cruder contraption with a silly grin on his face as he listened to Emily describing her first day attending to the Clerics, his mind intent on noting her frustrations with the practice and making changes accordingly. She sighed out and poured herself a glass of water from the pitcher and took a small sip, “The number of steps required could easily be watered down to a simpler process, do you not agree?”

“I suppose so, could you write a report on how I would do such a thing and have it find its way to me within the upcoming days?” He rested his head back into the comfortable leather armchair by the fireplace in the room he was staying in. Such a small place was temporary, their fortune had gone towards building a grand Cathedral for denizens of the Church, he had been taking blood more often as problems with construction and budget appeared as notices on his desk every morning. “I’m not in a state so proper to be discussing the facilitation of our ministration.”

“Are you satisfied with its construction?”

“Oh, of course not. It’s embarrassing really. It’s the work of a few students with access to spare parts, its nowhere as close to being as refined as it should be.” His gaze lazily moved over to her from the dancing flames, “You’re right to expect and to want better, Emily.”

“I do not mean to offend.”

“On the contrary, we grow in the light of criticism. If we do not listen to our peers, is it ever possible to learn from our mistakes and improve?” His head lulled back, “Would you mind opening the window for me?”

Emily obliged, “Are people afraid to tell you that things could be different or better?”

“I notice it more and more with each passing day.” The words were coated in a sickly sweet touch of contempt, “Should they keep up, I’ll forget what benefits an honest conversation would do for me. Promise me that you’ll never change, you’re the closest I have to kin these days.”

Emitting a small laugh, she smiled with a touch of pain in the edges of her mouth, “That’s what I am to you then?”

Laurence either didn’t hear or ignored her and went back to his humming before he started telling her about the plans he had for their newest development. The Cathedral Ward would be marvelous and there’s nothing more that he would want than to have a modified delivery system out before they were ready to move in. “Did you know they wanted to build a castle for me?”

“And you said no?”

“I told them to wait. I haven’t slept in the past two days working towards meeting the deadline for the current project, why should I add to such a burden?” He paused to let the cool breeze from the open widow brush over his face before he continued, “My priorities are getting a stronger hold of Yarnham, once I’ve secured that then I can start thinking about myself.”

“And how long will it take for you to do that?”

There was a twinkle in his eyes as spoke, “Hours, if even. Once the Ward is open, this town is mine.”

 

She looked at Laurence's young face, he himself had granted her training in medicine and ministration when she asked for it. We all have dreams, he said, my dreams are to help you achieve yours. The position of High Ministrator was granted to those trusted to treat outstanding clergy members, making sure they were comfortable and doing well—glorified caretaker in simpler terms-- but it also allowed for times like this. Quiet moments where they were nothing but doctor and patient. He was no longer Vicar, just a man who was barely 28 years old. No dreams, no ambitions. No passions.

 

He spoke in his blood hazed sleep. Words she would never dare speak again.

 

When he had awoken, he was in a cold sweat that soaked the sheets-- had it been at any other point he would have been distressed but for now it was the only thing keeping him cool as an inferno roared beneath his skin. The candelabra illuminated the dark stain of blood that had been leaking from his mouth onto his pillow, the moment he stirred there was gentle hand on the back of his head lifting it up to meet the rim of the glass filled with cool water. The Old Blood was forcing his own out and making itself a home in his veins, his own human blood tainted the water and Emily took it back before he could swallow anymore.

"Is there anything you need, Vicar?" She asked, pale skin showing rosy in the light of the small flames.

He shook his head, and laid down on his side after rinsing his mouth out. His words slurred together as he spoke "Ludwig. I wish t' see him."

"Rest for now, he'll arrive in the morning."

"I've found answers," he muttered, "to questions I didn't know I had."

"Is that so?”

"Bring me Ludwig, _please_." He was like a child begging for the comfort of his favorite toy, he yearned for the arms wrapped around him as his blood dribbled slowly out of his mouth and down the line of his jaw. Stronger hands holding him up and keeping him close, keeping him awake.

She used the wash cloth to wipe away the sweat beading on his forehead and a separate one to wipe the blood off of his face, "He's out on the hunt. What have you learned about?”

“Ludwig.” His eyes stared out at the edges of where the soft light fought the empty darkness in the expansive room, "He's my answer."


	2. Love Letter to the Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Vicar watched the sky slowly turn purple and pink as his work remained untouched and he held the cup of lukewarm tea in his hand, sipping ever so slightly from the overly sweet liquid as he saw the gates open and the group of hunters walk in weary and proud. They would sleep through the hours of the early morning and attend the sermons before sunset, the secret of the scourge was well enough hidden from most but it grew day by day and there are hunts where some of those who leave the Ward don’t come back.  
> Sometimes, preemptive measures had to be taken.

The streets of Yharnam twisted around the infrastructure and tangled around the buildings, rooting them in the city, claustrophobic and threatening when the Hunters don their garb and go on the streets to fulfill their duty. Most were bound by the Church, their white clothes drenched sanguine in blood but there were others, those that weren’t spoken about or acknowledged by his organization because he very well trusted the man who trained them. They were taking care of the issues that his own were not allowed to deal with, for the less that the ones in the lower echelons the better it was for the rest of them.

The veins of this city coursed with Old Blood, keeping it alive, successful, and lucrative. Should anybody have complaints in the matter, their heresy would travel and make it only as far as to the person who sets up the pyre for naysayers of the Church. Laurence had no hand in what people had decided to do, they accepted him as a foreigner to their home as he handed them a miracle in a vial. Skeptics converted into clerics with feverish admiration for the one who brought secrets hidden away from them, who were they—the scholars at Byrgenwerth—to lock away such a thing that would save children and save lives?

The light hung low, the candle burning on its last leg and the fireplace slowly turning into nothing more than embers, the sun was due to come out soon and the Ward would be bustling with people once the gates reopened. Laurence looked at the papers strewn all over his desk and was regretfully reminded of his dorm room back at Byrgenwerth; a mess that only got worse with time as the workload increased through the years. Oh, how fast he ran with his idea for the Blood they were experimenting on when he finished his time there. Willem had wanted him to stay, to expand his own minds with the methods the Old Provost had been using himself but there were other things Laurence had wanted to achieve.

He wanted to help people. He wanted to bring hope to the hopeless and give families the second chances they needed. Humanity needed to be elevated and what he brought to them would slowly bring his dreams into fruition—but first, the weak willed had to fall.

The Vicar watched the sky slowly turn purple and pink as his work remained untouched and he held the cup of lukewarm tea in his hand, sipping ever so slightly from the overly sweet liquid as he saw the gates open and the group of hunters walk in weary and proud. They would sleep through the hours of the early morning and attend the sermons before sunset, the secret of the scourge was well enough hidden from most but it grew day by day and there are hunts where some of those who leave the Ward don’t come back.

Sometimes, preemptive measures had to be taken.

Ludwig pushed open the heavy doors and trudged into the room, quickly discarding his robes as he gave a soft smile to Laurence, “Do you ever sleep?”

“Not much, no.” Laurence set his cup of tea down and went back to his papers, “But you know this already.”

“Ah, yes. No matter how comfortable the bed, sleep manages to evade you.”

Or really, he slept better with the weight of Ludwig’s body pressed against his back. He preferred the security and comfort it brought him over the down comforters. As warm as they were, they were nothing to compare to companionship when he went to rest his head.  “We have business to discuss before you retire for the night. I think we need another sect of Hunters.”

“You never want to give me a break do you?”

“Not when you’re so capable of these tasks.”

“Why do we need this then?”

“I need problems to be taken care of before the scourge is evident. I need it done quickly and I need it done quietly.”

Ludwig sat down at the fireplace, his large frame barely comfortable in the leather armchair listening silently.

“Should we want to prolong the life time of the Church and make the hunts easier on the actual hunters—“

“Is that not murder?”

Laurence froze, eyebrows furrowed in frustration before he immediately tried to calm himself down. “My dear, how many have you lost tonight?”

“Four good people.”

“We can avoid that altogether with this. I’ve been studying the symptoms, we can teach them how to identify it before it takes it’s hold.” His voice was soothing and reassuring as if he had placed a hand on Ludwig’s shoulder and whispered into his ear that everything was okay. “I’ve gotten us this far, have I not earned your trust?”

“Of course you have, darling. Look at everything you’ve built.” His words were tainted with a hint of malice and wonder, there was no denying that Laurence had taken their faith and put it to good use. His promises were never empty and his word was to be taken as law.

“I did not do this alone. Not without you. And I cannot cut down on casualties without you either. I cannot— _ we _ cannot save every lost soul but we can save the others before the beasts get stronger and strike them down. Our prayers will not be answered if we do not fight for them first.” Laurence had risen from his desk and walked towards to where his partner was seated, “There is so much more I want for all of this and I want to keep it secure. Will you not aid me in this venture?”

Ludwig sat there, staring at the dying flames and the burning embers in the fireplace as he weighed his options, there were more people willing than ever to fight the beasts in the church alone, but with more and more losses those numbers will wane into nothingness. “Are Brador’s operations not doing well enough?”

“He’s the source of inspiration, actually. Might I find somebody as dedicated as him, this would be better than I had originally planned for.”

Ludwig reached for Laurence’s hand, taking it with a gentle reverence as if Laurence would break, “Then I will do what is needed.” His placed chapped lips to his lover’s knuckles and smiled, “But for now, I would like to get ready for bed.”

He had rushed to the Vicar when Emily had come to him with an urgent invitation, when he had asked her what was wrong she simply grabbed him by the elbow and led him to the room where Laurence lay in anguish, blood seeping from between lips gone pale. 

“What have you done?” He quickly turned to Emily, grabbing her hand in a vice grip and watched the panic flood into her eyes. She squirmed trying to free herself “He did it without my supervision, there is nothing I can do to stop him, you know that best of anybody else.”

“What's wrong with him?”

“I haven't the slightest clue, please, you’re hurting me. Laurence wouldn't like to know you got this upset over him, I’m doing all in my power to keep him afloat.”

Ludwig stared past her as Laurence muttered in his frightful sleep, the expression on his face a mix of bliss and pain as the blood simmered beneath his skin and shaped him into something more in the image of the Great Ones. His eyes softened as he looked at the Vicar, foolish might he be at some points he paved a dedicated path through Yarnham and into the hearts of many with nothing more than a miracle and his words. “Get some rest, I will take care of him.”

“Keep him on his side, he should drown otherwise.” She quickly gathered her shawl off of the chair the moment the brilliant Church Hunter let her go, “He will be alright, the Vicar has gone through much worse and came out on top.”

“Why did he want me to come here?” He questioned looking down at his robes, the bottom of the length of fabric stained with blood and viscera perhaps a change of clean clothes would've done him nicely.

“He didn't say much.”

“What was it that he  _ did  _ say?”

“That you were the answer.” Her eyes cast downwards and even though her reply was vague and he was left confused he questioned it no further, not wanting to push the issue and attend to the matter at hand.

“You can go now.” Ludwig could feel Emily’s heartbreak as she left the room, it was easily the worst kept secret of the Church and Laurence simply didn't care or didn't realize. Both of these options being equally viable for the Vicar who did not pay attention to much other than his own needs and that of the Church in the grand plan. Emily took no place in either other than to foster a ministrator of blood at a young age when their minds were supple and could bring upon improvements to existing methods. She ended up in a position of respect with how often she was near the Vicar, being a friend and a caretaker for the night's where he lay addled with blood.

He sat there in the tiny uncomfortable chair by the bedside, wiping away the string of blood between Laurence’s lips.

The Vicar’s eyes fluttered open, looking around in the midst of being lost and panicked. The absence of the corrupted voice that spoke secrets to him while his eyes eyes were shut startled him. He neither understood nor could decipher the garble of an ancient language that would've have to have been alive before it could be considered dead. The nightmarish whispers were soothing, whatever words it said brought a calmness to where his blood boiled in his veins. Memories of times long gone had been stirred in his sleep and changed, the image of his mother and father changed in his rest until they were nothing more than mere specters. His success was never attributed to them anyways. The less of his brain dedicated to remembering those so insignificant the less he has to dedicate to continuing on his path. His gaze rested upon the pale skin of Ludwig, registering the calming hand on his shoulder. “You’re here.”

“Addled and yet you still call for me with an important thought on your mind.” The Hunters smile was warm and welcoming, he removed his hand from the Vicar and continued, “What is it that you needed?”

“Your company is all I asked for. Nothing more, nothing less.” The blood in his mouth shined brightly on his teeth as he spoke and Ludwig was unable to drag his gaze away.

“What was this all for? You're in pain, I pray that it was worth it.”

“Even if I had gotten nothing else out of this experiment, you're here, aren't you?” He awaited an answer, as if confirmation would be enough to convince him that the man before him wasn't an illusion. A figment of his mind pushed to the brink by the substance he willingly indulged. 

The Hunter wasn't sure of how to respond with anything other than a meager agreement and nod, “I'm assuming this was more than getting me to come to your bedside.”

“Partially, your presence is one I relish in, I think better with you here, I think smarter.”

“Rarely do I ever have much to offer that you haven't already thought of.”

“You don't give yourself enough credit for what you're capable of, dear.” The Vicar leaned up on his side, propping his body on his elbow, “By the Gods, I feel weighed down with lead.” His body unwillingly leaned forward, shoulder slumping and head tilted towards the pillow as if it was too heavy to hold up, “You're a shimmering source of inspiration, Ludwig. Look into my eyes and you’ll know I mean every word of it.”

Laurence’s brown eyes were consumed by his pupils as he spoke, blood dripping down the from the corners of his mouth with lips chapped and stained red from the number of times they’ve been wiped dry. “This is the worst I’ve ever seen you, Laurence. Including the time you had gotten drunk when my family hosted your group and poured your wine all over me.”

“That was intentional. I was barely intoxicated.”

“You realized that was my good shirt.”

“I wanted to get closer to you, at the time.”

“Ruining my most expensive shirt was the wrong way to do it.”

“I make mistakes just like everybody else, but-- this is not my worst. This is me at my most pure. My senses are clear and I know everything I want. The path of my entire life laid out before my eyes by the hand of a Great One. The image seared into the back of my eyelids. A roadmap to everything the Church can become and everything it will be.” He paused to spit the blood gathering in his mouth into a pan Emily had left for him and continued on, speaking past the cloth Ludwig wiped away the blood and saliva with, “Do you not see, why I wanted you here?”

Ludwig’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion, unable to give an answer before Laurence had continued on.

“If after tonight, after everything I tell you and you're not convinced, you may leave the Church at any time of your own free will. However, if you see the worth in my words and believe in them while they're this raw, allow me to have dinner with you and explain them in a more coherent manner.”

“I’d never leave the Church, you know this.”

“So we just skip to dinner then.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to update it but I did have something written from a long time ago that I decided to put up as well. It's not perfect but at most I'll try to get a final part up and then decide on what I want to do from there.


End file.
